


Tether

by celinamarniss



Series: A Non-Zero-Sum Game [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Thrawn Trilogy - Timothy Zahn
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Inappropriate Sex, F/M, Missing Scene, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-20 00:19:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14884011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celinamarniss/pseuds/celinamarniss
Summary: Luke visits Mara in the med bay of the Wild Karrde after the battle at Mount Tantiss. He's in too deep, and he knows it.





	Tether

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by JediMordSith.

The lights in the _Wild Karrde’s_ med bay were set to dim and the room’s sole occupant lay still, curled onto her side on the narrow bed, the fiery spill of her hair spread across the pillow. Though she hadn’t stirred as he stepped through the door—the only movement the slight rise and fall of her body as she breathed—Luke could tell that she was still awake. He crossed the med bay and paused by the foot of the bed, unsure of his welcome.

“You can sit, Skywalker,” she said, her voice rasping in the quiet of the room. Her eyes blinked open and she shifted, rolling onto her back as he sat gingerly on the bed by her feet.

Mara had been hit the hardest in the fight with C’baoth, and he’d done what he could for her with the Force before they’d gotten her aboard the _Karrde_ and she’d been treated in their small emergency bacta tank. He, Leia and Han had received treatment for their injuries as well, and someone on the _Karrde_ loaned him a tunic and loose pair of pants so that he could change out of charred clothes that reeked of sweat and ozone.

Wearing his lightsaber belt on what was essentially a pair of sleeping pants seemed a little ridiculous, and there was no reason to carry a weapon on the _Karrde_ now that the battle was over and he was among—alllies, if not friends _._ It had felt odd holding his old lightsaber—his father’s lightsaber—in his hand again for the first time since Bespin. It didn’t quite mold to his grip the way that the lightsaber he’d made for himself on Tatooine did. He’d already mourned the loss of his old lightsaber years ago, and it no longer felt right hanging at his side. He put that thought aside to be dealt with later and gave them to Han to store on the _Falcon_.

Using the Force to heal others was a draining process, and he’d collapsed on a med bay cot for a few hours while Mara was in the tank, the long day finally catching up with him. Leia had woken him and made sure he ate, washed, and had taken care of himself before she left for the _Falcon._ Karrde had assured them both that if he didn’t make it back to the _Falcon_ before it was time to leave Wayland, he was welcome to a bunk on the _Wild Karrde_. He’d agreed mainly so he could check on Mara when she’d finished with the treatments.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better.” She pushed herself into a sitting position, propped up against the pillows at the head of the bed. “Thank you. For that.”

She didn’t quite meet his eye.

“Of course,” he said. “I can teach you healing and pain relief techniques, if you’d like. I’d be happy to teach you. It’s not a replacement for bacta, but it’s useful in certain situations. Obviously.”

He’d lingered on the _Karrde_ because he’d meant to say something comforting or meaningful after she’d saved all of them from C’baoth and nearly been killed in the battle, and here he was, prattling on idiotically about the usefulness of pain-reduction techniques, even though he could tell she wasn’t really listening.

She nodded, her expression distant. “He never taught me anything like that.”  

He caught the flicker of pain threading out from her, and the weariness that accompanied it. She slumped down a few inches on the bed, her fingers tracing an erratic path along the edge of the sheet that covered her.

She looked small and vulnerable against the stark white sheets of the med bay bed; pale in the dim light. She’d always been frank about her anger and pain, wielding them like both weapon and shield against him, but now she didn’t bother to temper the confession with a sharp retort.

He wasn’t sure he could chart the moment when things had shifted between them, but he thought it might have been in somewhere in the forest on Wayland, during the days of training and strained anticipation of what they faced in Mount Tantiss. His mind went back to the feel of her hand gripping his, her face drawn and frightened as she begged him to kill her if C’baoth managed to shackle her mind to his. The very idea had been anathema to him; if he were to kill a friend—a lover—in cold blood, he would have betrayed everything he stood for as a Jedi. All he had offered her were fumbling, if sincere, promises not to desert her, which were met with contempt. For a second, his arm stretched after her as she moved away, but then she tugged her hand lose and spun around to rejoin the group.

The desperation that had haunted her then was gone, but he wasn’t quite sure what had replaced it.

He wondered what she was thinking.

He wanted to kiss her.

“You should sleep,” he said, standing slowly. He still wanted to say— _something_ —but all he could think of were trite expressions of consolation that he knew would only irritate her. He should probably get some rest himself.

“Too keyed up.” She shifted again, her knees bobbing under the blanket as she moved her legs fitfully. He’d been in enough sickbeds himself to recognize the restlessness; like an impossible-to-scratch itch that was almost worse than the pain. “It’s the meds. I can’t relax enough to sleep.”

 _I could think of a good way for you to relax_ —as soon as it crossed his mind, he squashed the thought, though not in time to keep his cheeks from heating slightly. Maybe she wouldn’t notice.

She looked up, her eyes glittering in the dim light as she swept an appraising look over him—a look he recognized. She was thinking the same thing, he was sure of it.

“I could ask if they have a sedative,” he suggested.

“I don’t want any more medication.”

“You’re still recovering.”

“I’d rather fuck than go back to sleep,” she said with a bluntness he thought was calculated. “But if you’re not interested...” She raised an eyebrow at him; she knew _exactly_ how interested he was. “I can take care of myself.”

Her hand slipped under the sheets. He watched it move across her hip and between her legs, watched her legs shift and spread under the stiff fabric, watched her lips part and her eyes fix on him as she began to touch herself. Each movement was slow and deliberate: this was performance and provocation.

He sucked in a quiet breath, his eyes darting between her face and the crease in the sheet where he fingers moved. They caught on her lips as a sigh rushed out between them, and then on the ripple that moved across the sheets as she rocked her hips into her hand.

Arousal rocketed through him as he watched her pleasure herself, her head tilted back, eyelashes shadowing the brilliant green of her eyes, still locked on him. His feet carried him forward the threes steps it took back to her side, and he perched on the edge of the bed by her hips so that he could lean across and kiss her, his tongue brushing against her lips until she parted hers, welcoming him in.

“I stink of bacta,” she muttered as he began to mouth down her neck.

“Don’t care,” he mumbled between kisses.

Shipboard sonics couldn’t wash away the cloying smell of bacta that clung to her skin, but it was better than the ozone stink of the lightning that had saturated both of them after the attack. The marks from C'baoth's lightning, still an angry red, cascaded down her chest and across her breasts. With another bacta treatment, they’d disappear, or fade to faint silver lines tracking across her skin.

He was about to slide his hand down to join hers when her left hand shot up and clamped around his arm. He realized that his mental alarms were sounding too but he'd been to absorbed in her to pay them any attention. There was only a skeleton crew left on the _Karrde_ but that didn’t rule out the chance of someone checking in on the med bay. Now he could sense someone coming down the hall in the direction of the med bay, and he reached out to the other consciousness and gave it a nudge—a suggestion to turn away. He let out a breath as it worked, the interloper heading away again.

Mara hadn't loosened her grip. He frowned, sweeping the nearby halls again, and this time he sensed the medic, moving toward the room with a purpose that wouldn't be dissuaded by a Force-sent suggestion.

"Fresher," she hissed.

He slid off of her and darted toward the tiny ‘fresher in the med bay, hitting the button to close the door behind him. The small room contained a toilet and a sonic shower behind a sliding panel, as well as a sink half-recessed into the wall with a mirror fixed above it. He leaned against the wall of the fresher, sucking in deep breaths as he got his body under control again. He scrubbed his hand across his face. What had he been _thinking?_ He _hadn’t_ been thinking—once again, he’d let any scrap of common sense he had fly out of his head where Mara was concerned.

After a few minutes, he could hear the muffled sounds of the medic speaking to Mara, though he didn’t bother to focus on what was being said between them. He waited, listening as the medic moved around the room. When he sensed the man leaving the med bay again, he turned on the faucet and splashed water on his face. He was just drying off when the door opened with a hiss, and Mara stepped into ‘fresher. She only wore a sleeveless undershirt and undershorts, her bright hair tumbling around her shoulders. The door slid shut with a click.

“Mara? Shouldn’t—”

But what he thought Mara shouldn’t have been doing was lost as she pressed her lips against his, the kiss rough and demanding. He felt her hands slip under his shirt and the touch of her fingers sent a shiver over his skin.

He broke the kiss and took a half-step back, which was all the cramped room would allow.

“We can’t kriff in the fresher,” he said, trying to catch his breath.

“Why not?”

“It’s unhygienic.”

Her chin raised, a challenge flashing in her eyes, and before she’d even opened her mouth the look she’d given him had sealed it—he was definitely going to fuck her in the ‘fresher.

“What kind of Rebel pilot,” she said, her voice going haughty and clipped. “Has never fucked anyone anywhere unhygienic?”

He caught her wrist and pulled her closer, bringing her hand to his lips. He could smell the scent of her on her fingers as he sucked them into his mouth, stroking his tongue against the pads and watching as her mouth went slack and a spark flared in her eyes. She pulled her hand free and tangled it in his hair in order to yank his head down and meet his lips in a greedy, sloppy kiss. His arms looped around her until she was pressed up against him, her hips rocking into his, into his rapidly hardening cock.

He was reminded of living on Alliance bases like on Hoth and the furtive liaisons that had been as much about experimentation as intimacy; killing the boredom of a snowbound year by figuring out what he liked in bed, with women, men, and a few alien partners.

He knew what he liked now. He liked _her._

As he ran his hands up her side, her shirt rucked up below her breasts and he broke the kiss to gaze down at her. Bruises splotched across her skin from the storm of rocks C’baoth had flung against her. He gentled his touch but she just pressed harder into his hands, her own fingers digging into his hips to pull him closer again. His breath whooshed out and his whole body jerked as she leaned down to mouth at his nipple through his shirt, her teeth raking over it. He moaned, the sound loud in the tiny space of the fresher.

She shoved his pants past his hips and let her own shorts fall to her feet and kicked them away. He reached for her again but she twisted in his arms, turning to place her palms against the mirror, bent at the waist and pushing back against him. He tucked his hands under her shirt so that he could wrap them around her waist, and swept her hair to one side so that he could press his lips against the swoop of her shoulder. She turned her head, her jaw banging against his nose.  

“Just get on with it, Skywalker.”

Her words made him want to slow down, to take the time to linger, relearning the taste of her skin and—this wasn’t the time. There had never been _time._

He listened for the catch of her breath as he pushed inside of her, the faint hum of approval that was the signal for him to move, the sharp inhale as he began to thrust swiftly inside her.  As it always had, it felt amazing sinking into her, losing himself in the rhythm as she rocked her hips back against his.

As they moved he kissed her shoulders and neck, catching glimpses of her face in the mirror. She had her eyes locked on him, watching him with irises blown wide, her mouth in a worldless _o_ as she panted. He slipped a hand down to brush against her clit and watched she bit down on her lower lip, her eyes hooded and dark but still fixed on him.

She was always quiet when they had sex, swallowing down her moans and whimpers, and while he knew she was right to keep what they were currently doing in the bathroom on her boss’s ship discreet, he had to fight down the urge to wring a cry out of her. That could wait for later—he hoped there _was_ a _later._

He didn’t want to touch her like it was the last time.  

Instead, he listened carefully for her breath to grow ragged, for the choked gasps she couldn’t quite hold back. Every small sound she made sent pleasure sparking down his spine. He was hurtling faster towards that peak, and he pressed down on her clit, urging her along as his rhythm began to get choppy and everything stretched out like a line about to snap—

Mara’s hips jerked into his hand and a reedy whimper unspooled from her lips as she seized around him, her body shuddering in his arms. He felt himself begin to rush toward his climax and saw her eyes flash up, her arm snaking back and tangling roughly in his hair, yanking his face down so that his shout was muffled in the soft curve of her neck. He rested there, mouth sliding against her skin as he breathed heavily against her.

He wanted to wrap himself around her and stay that way… for weeks, at least. Wrap around her so she couldn’t spin apart—

She pulled away, shrugging out of his embrace and letting his cock slip from her body. Cold air rushed against his front and he suppressed a shiver at the sensation as she stepped out of his arms.

They both straightened their respective clothing in silence. There was a tight feeling in his chest as watched her lean down and splash water on her face, cooling the bright flush that had spread across her skin.

“Mara, I—”

“No,” she said quickly to silence him.

He caught her eyes in the mirror and held them. She shook her head, and he shut his mouth, watching her reflection closely.

“I cut you down today,” she said, her voice flat. “I stood over your body and watched your eyes go dead.”

The statement sobered him like a slap in the face. Though the mirror, he could see his own face contorting in surprise, shock, horror; her face had the stillness of a hunter calculating their next move.

“It was the first time I felt free. After killing you.”

He felt like he could barely sense the core of her through the swirling fog of sharped-edged emotion, her shame like a sharp tang he could taste on his tongue. He knew on some level she was lashing out to push him away, every word a trip wire, and he needed to cut through that fog of pain and anger to reach her.

“Do you still want to kill me, Mara?”

She finally broke eye contact, her gaze dropping to the sink. He waited; watched her hands drift restlessly across the edge.

“I did,” she breathed. “On Myrkr I wanted to kill you for my own reasons, not _his.”_

He knew that she believed what she said, and he didn’t want to contradict her, but he wondered if it had ever been true—in spite of the various excuses she’d produced about needing to keep him alive, she’d had the opportunity to kill him time and again, and he’d never doubted her capacity to deal out deadly force. And yet she’d fought _with_ him against Mrykr’s violent wildlife, Thrawn’s forces, clones and mad Jedi. She’d turned to him for comfort on Wayland. She cut the final tether that had bound her to Palpatine’s memory and driven his voice out of her head. He didn’t understand why she still clung to the faded persona of the Emperor’s Hand, when the woman before him was so remarkable in her own right.

“And now his voice is gone, isn’t it? You can make your own decisions.”

She was quiet. He dared to reach out and lay a hand on her bare shoulder, watching through the mirror as her eyes fell shut.

“It was part of me for so long,” she said, her voice low. “I couldn’t even tell that it was his voice—his intentions—and not my own.”

He took a half-step closer. “You don’t have to let it define you now.” Words felt as perilous a shifting sand, and he wasn’t sure what he could say to steady her, but he went on. “You have a place here, with Karrde, and you have the Force, and the training to use it.” He didn’t want her to slip out of his life again, but it still felt daring to say it aloud: “You have me...”

Her eyes lifted slowly, catching his in the mirror again.

“If you think this will continue,” she said, her voice hard. “You’re lying to yourself.”

“Mara—” He wanted to say that wasn’t what he meant, while realizing that he meant it entirely.

And she knew.

He tried again, this time without words, sending out a tendril in the Force, like extending a lifeline he could only hope that she would grasp—

“Stay out of my head!” she cried, smacking the edge of the sink with her hand.

His head snapped back like he’d been struck. The reflection of her face twisted, and for a moment he was frozen in horror at her reaction. Something in his chest wrenched at the raw emotion that surged out of her—a deep, instinctive fear whose source he didn’t have time to process before she spun around, slapped the release button for the door and stalked through it, over to a robe that was hanging by the outer door. She pulled on the robe and left without another word, leaving him alone in the medical bay.

She didn’t look back.

 


End file.
